Taking one last shot, she scrambled into the front, while Monique curled herself down in the back.
Janvier shot her a grin. “Buckle up.”
“Snap.” Bracing her feet, she nodded. “Go!”
They slammed out of the garage with a screeching of bent metal and torn wire as the doors folded in their path. Screams sounded as men and women got out of the way, but the Hummer was stopping for no one. And when bullets ricocheted off the sides, Ashwini grinned. “Guess Callan’s paranoid, too.”
“Lucky for us.” Janvier shifted up a gear as they raced over Callan’s manicured lawns and crashed their way through a hedge or three.
Ashwini used the chance to reload her gun and twist her head to check if Monique was still alive. The blonde vampire stared at her with eyes so round, the whites showed on every side. “You’re both insane.”
Grinning, Ashwini twisted back round to the front . . . just in time to see another Hummer coming at them on an intercept path from the right. “Janvier, you see that?” She lowered her window. “Callan’s driving.”
“Distract him, cher.”
“Already on it.” Cooling her mind until there was nothing and no one else in it, she took aim at the moving target. Her first bullet hit the tire rim, but the second was a bull’s-eye. “He’s got some protective coating on the tires,” she muttered when the bullet failed to do any damage. Dropping the gun, she picked up the crossbow and notched a bolt into place.
The Hummer bounced hard as they went over a small flowering hedge and onto the drive, but she kept her attention on the other vehicle, ignoring the gunshots coming her way. Callan’s face came into startlingly close focus as the other vampire turned his black Hummer hard to the left in an attempt to cut them off.
“Sorry, Callie,” Ashwini whispered almost to herself, “not today.” The bolt slammed into the Hummer’s back wheel, skewing the vehicle sideways. It only slowed Callan a fraction, but a fraction was all they needed.
“Down!” Janvier yelled as he drove hell-bent for leather through and over the cars barricading the metal gates. Safety glass showered on her head and the Hummer groaned ominously, but then, suddenly, they were on the road, heading away from Callan and his crew far faster than anyone could possibly catch up.
Lifting up her head, she dusted off the glass . . . and saw Janvier’s shoulder pinned to the seat with a metal spike that had to have come from the gate. He was still driving, his teeth gritted, his face ripped and torn. Ignoring Monique’s slew of complaints from the backseat, Ashwini undid her safety belt, turned to brace her back against the dash, and took hold of the spike. “Ready, cher?”
He shot her a smile stained bloodred. “Go.”
Knowing that vampirism didn’t protect against pain, she took a firm grip, waited until they were on a smooth stretch of road, and pulled. Janvier swore in a rapid stream of very blue Cajun French, but managed to keep the car on its path. Staring at the thickness of the thing she’d pulled out, she felt her stomach churn. “Fucker’s bigger than a crossbow bolt.”
“Good to know it won’t hurt as much when you shoot me.”
She dropped the metal on the car mat and returned to her seat. “I better call Nazarach.” Right this second, she couldn’t think about shooting Janvier, not when she’d felt his hand on her head as they went through that gate.
Monique whimpered. “Don’t take me back to him. Please.”
“You know the rules.” Janvier’s tone was harder than Ashwini had ever heard. “You knew the rules better than most Candidates before you decided to be Made. Don’t try to change them now.”
“I didn’t know there’d be this much terror.” The female vampire met Ashwini’s eyes in the mirror. “Have you seen him? Met him?”
At Ashwini’s nod, Monique continued. “Now imagine being alone in a room with him, imagine him walking around and around you while you stand there trying not to think about all the things he could do to you . . . knowing you’ll remain conscious for all of them.”
“I don’t have to imagine,” Ashwini said, her throat husky with memory. “I’ve been on Guild rescue squads. I’ve seen vampires survive things no one should survive.”
“It all heals,” Monique whispered. “I once saw Jean lose both her legs as punishment. It healed. I thought then that it wouldn’t be so bad. But the mind . . . it doesn’t heal.” Her gaze went to Janvier, but the other vampire was focused on the road, his torn face repairing itself before Ashwini’s eyes.
He’d need blood soon, she realized. Lots of it. Already, he was looking thinner, his bones stark against his skin. “Can you make it to Nazarach’s?” she asked.
“Will you offer me your sweet blood if I say non?”
“That answers the question.”
A small smile, lines of white bracketing his mouth. “A favor, cher. Wipe the blood off my face.”
Ripping off the bottom end of her T-shirt, she cleared the mess of it away from his eyes before doing the rest of his face. “You ever had to grow back a limb?”
Cool shadows in the moss green. “Ask me when we’re alone.” His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror for a second. “I would’ve thought you’d be one of Nazarach’s favorites, Monique. He likes beauty.”
Monique shivered, wrapping her arms more firmly around herself in spite of the warm ambient temperature. “He likes pain more. I hope to God he never takes me to his bed.”
“He hasn’t already?” Janvier made no attempt to hide his surprise.
A thready laugh from the vampire in the backseat. “He says I need time to mature, to learn how to take the ‘pleasure’ he offers.”
“Shit,” Ashwini muttered. “Now she’s making me feel sorry for her.”
“Don’t,” Janvier said. “She made her choice. Now she’s trying to manipulate you.”
“Of course she is.” Ashwini smiled at the look he shot her. “Monique here is hoping I’ll stand up for her against Nazarach, which’ll likely get me killed and take the spotlight off her.”
A chill silence from the back. Then, “You’re smarter than you look, Guild Hunter.”
“Gee, thanks.” Snorting, she rotated her shoulders to resettle her bones. “They teach us well at Guild Academy. Know what one of the first rules of hunting is?”
“Enlighten me.” Ice dripped off the words.
“Never, ever, feel sorry for a vampire. They’ll take that pity and use it to rip out your throat, smiling all the while.”
“I was as human as you a year ago,” Monique said.
“The operative word is ‘was.’” She took out her cell phone. “Now you’ve been Made, and now you’re what Nazarach Made you.”
The angel was pleased to hear that his pet had been retrieved. “Bring her here, Guild Hunter. We have matters to discuss . . . and I’m sure she’s most anxious to reunite with her family.”
Ashwini recognized Antoine Beaumont and Simone Deschanel from their photos. Yet in none of the images she’d seen had their faces been sheened with a slick coating of pure, animal terror. Antoine hid it well, but his entire being was focused on the angel who stood so relaxed at the windows opposite the royal blue sofa where the other two sat. Simone, fragrant and sexy in a bright red dress, wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions. Her hands twisted over and over in her lap, while her eyes tracked Nazarach’s every tiny movement.
When Ashwini and Janvier walked in with Monique—having made one very quick pit stop to buy her a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—Antoine’s eyes jerked toward his many-times-removed granddaughter, but Simone continued to keep her gaze on the most dangerous predator in the room.
“Monique,” Nazarach said in a gentle voice that wrapped around Ashwini’s throat like a noose. “Come here, my sweet.”
The golden-haired vampire walked toward her master on halting feet. “Sire, I didn’t choose to break my Contract. Please believe me.”
“Hmm.” His eyes lifted up. “What say you, hunter?”